Don't Close Your Eyes
by Vanilla Sensation v2.0
Summary: Hermione Granger disappeared at the beginning of her sixth year. Now, five years later, Draco Malfoy, Death Eater and Spy of the Order of the Phoenix is sent to investigate the alluring and exotic descendant of the French Pureblood Family Château – Renaud, whose mysteriousness and thirst for revenge has cast the entire Wizarding world into chaos...
1. Prologue

**I'M BACK!**

**Not-the-brightest-idea No.1: Beginning my new story with an EXTREMELY long author note...but it just felt more important placing this at the start rather at the end...yes, I've gotten weirder...**

******Not-the-brightest-idea No.2: Being back on Fanfiction even though my work load has like, tripled, this year...But I LOVE IT! And wow, so much has changed! **  


******Not-the-brightest-idea No.3: The title...Not at all exciting as I want it to sound...but I'm OPEN FOR SUGGESTIONS! **

******I just REALLY want to thank all the people who STILL have me on their favourites list and alerts (even if you just forgot, and left me there :P) because it really feels nice :) **

******11bballchick11, anna0728, Centaursparkles, ChloeDracoMalfoy, GottaGetBackUp, heartrose61, javelin seer, supernaturalNUT, virginger, voldyismyfather, act-not-think, fallfromreality, Grace Dianajane and Mrgrtpacheco**

******So, without further ado...ENJOY! **

* * *

**Don't Close Your Eyes**

**Prologue: The Rebirth of Hermione Granger**

* * *

It was a beautiful night; the moon hung proudly in the sky, shining in all its luminescent glory. She was enjoying the peace and quiet, allowing her mind to be lulled by the familiar scratches of her quill on the paper and comforted by her familiar surroundings.

It was amidst this deceptive serenity when a cold blast of wind forced open the windows. The glass shattered in a hazardous pile on the floor as the window rebounded noisily against the walls. Through the open window came a haughty looking owl, it landed itself regally on her desk and ruffled its feathers importantly. A photograph was clutched tightly in its claws.

The girl drew her jacket tightly against her body, staring at the messenger with wariness. She waved her wand in several intricate motions and after being sure that the picture was free from any jinx or curses, she took the it from the creature's talons shakily.

* * *

"Come back! Please! It's not safe!" He pleaded frantically as he watched her rush onto the streets.

She ignored his calls just like how she ignored the logical workings of her brain advising her calm down. Her sorrow and despair had overpowered everything. She only knew that she _had_ to get to her parents – her parents who were lying in a pool of their own blood, staring at her with their once warm, adoring brown orbs filled with pain, regret… and love.

It was her fault. She should have sent them away earlier, relocated them to somewhere safe and erased their memories. But she didn't. Now, she had to pay the price of her selfishness. Her tears blurred her vision as she raced down the streets, but she swiped them away impatiently.

_Please, please hold on. I'm coming..._

_Perhaps it wouldn't be too late? _She thought indulgently. She needed something to hold onto, because if she didn't...she was afraid she wouldn't have the courage to go on.

But even as she was thinking it, she felt the warmth remaining within her chest slowly ebb away.

Perhaps she could still hold their hands…so she wouldn't be scared when they leave her behind.

Perhaps she could still smile at them…so they could remember her smile as the last thing they see.

Perhaps...

The last thought faded away just as she saw the emerald death mark glistening victoriously above her house. She could only watch numbly as the snake slithered out of the skull and raised itself up challengingly at her. She felt a sudden wave of exhaustion, her legs gave away underneath her and she succumbed, willingly, to darkness.

_I didn't tell you that I love you both so, so, much..._

* * *

She opened her eyes to the feeling of someone's calloused hands running over her cheek. She blinked several times as she tried to dispel the blurriness and gain her orientation.

"So the sleeping beauty awakes." A raspy voice sounded right next to her ear.

The girl whipped her head around to face the man. "Dolohov…" The man's name tasted like poison on her tongue...

Antonin Dolohov grinned and pushed his face closer. "Is that _any_ way to greet an old friend?"

She flinched at his proximity, but refused to back away. Instead, she fixed the man with a cold stare, "As if you deserve any better." She spat.

The girl readied herself as he chuckled. Then, within a blink of an eye, she flicked her wand out of her holster and shouted E_xpelliarmus. _

Dolohov's eyes widened slightly at her attack, but within seconds he had regained composure and casually stepped aside with practiced ease, "Is that really the best you can do?" Mockery was clear in his voice.

Refusing to rise to his bait, the girl only tightened her grip on her vine wood wand. "_Impedimenta_"

Again, Dolohov gracefully manoeuvred himself out of the way of the spell.

"Aw, this is no fun at all." Dolohov commented disappointedly, but his face contradicted his tone as he sent her a ridiculing smile, "You know, I left you with your wand because I wanted it to be more of a challenge...But, I'm tired. Let's end this now." He finished with a savage grin and with a harsh flick of his wand, a lightning blue spell came hurling her way.

"_Protego" _She raised the shield in alarm but while it blocked the brunt of the spell, she was still sent hurling back onto the pavement. Her eyes watered as she felt all the air knock out of her lungs.

"Well, well, what do we have here? A damsel in distress…Let me help you my dear lady." Dolohov offered her his hand in a gallant manner, but she slapped his hand away like one would do to a pest.

"Go. To. Hell." The girl tightened her grip on her wand again, feeling the grooves as they pressed almost painfully into her palm of her hand. She would _not_ be easy prey.

* * *

She felt the life trickle out of her; her eyelids were getting heavy, she couldn't see properly, she was so, so tired…

The wind blew again, blowing a bitter coldness against her bare skin and into her bones. She felt her mouth lift into a weak and ironic smile. She didn't know she could feel any colder as she did now.

Tears slipped from her eyes and she felt them slide tortuously slow down her face, mingling with her blood, and creating several bloody trails.

"So this is how it ends…" She thought. Surprisingly, the thought of death did not scare her as much as it did anymore. Before, she thought she had so much left to accomplish, to achieve, to prove. She wasn't ready to leave this world. But now…what was there left for her? She was stripped bare of her dignity, her power, her hope, her warmth...

No, death would be a welcomed respite; she was so, so cold.

She felt her eyelids drop further and it was in that stage of semi-consciousness, she heard footsteps approaching. She tilted her face slightly, urging tendrils of her hair to cover her face...she didn't want anyone to see her like this...But her worry was for naught, the person stopped a respectful distance away, before continuing back from where they came from.

She didn't know if she should smile at her fortune or...

She forced her eyes open with sheer willpower and caught the person's silhouette.

Her red hair gleamed triumphantly under the moonlight and swayed elegantly with every step she took. She walked with a feline and deadly grace, her high heels clacked nosily against the insidious silence of the night.

_Clack, clack, clack _

She felt the last vestiges of hope and life drain away as she watched the familiar silhouette walk away from her.

_Clack, clack, clack _

She closed her eyes calmly, a small smile playing on the edges of her mouth. Today would be the end of Hermione Granger.

_Clack, clack… _

* * *

Five years later…

Angelique Château – Renaud sat in front of her vanity and watched as her house elf dragged an ornate hairbrush through her silky and luxurious brown curls.

"What will you be wearing today Miss?" the timid creature acquired her mistress reverently.

"Whatever you see fit Libra."

Libra clicked her fingers and immediately an elegant ensemble of clothes was laid out on the bed. Angelique padded over to her bed and began to change out of her sleepwear into the white lace dress that Libra had chosen.

She had seen them last night. They had appeared in her dreams. Her mother was running gentle fingers through her bushy hair as her father flicked her nose teasingly. Her mother would sprout off random lines from poems, trying to be introspective, while her and her father would smile indulgently at her attempts, simultaneously trying to hide their smiles. Her father would make a joke at her mother's expense, and while she was laughing her head off, he would wrap an arm around his wife's shoulder and place a gentle kiss to her forehead.

But it was over before she realised and she was left waking up in between her Egyptian cotton sheets with an acute sense of loss and emptiness.

Angelique was startled out of her reverie by an owl tapping impatiently on her window. Libra walked over and opened the window to allow it in.

The small, pompous-looking owl dropped her subscribed copy of the Daily Prophet in her hands daintily and flew away immediately. Angelique hid a smile at its official manner and scanned through the newspaper, but what she saw on page seven made her stop cold.

**Hogwarts mourn the Brightest Witch of her Age**

**Written by Harvey Gluttenborough, special correspondent of Wizarding Education**

_Today marks the 6__th__ year of Hermione Granger's alleged abduction. Hermione Granger, muggleborn, was a close friend of Harry Potter and was abducted on the 23__rd__ of June. Disaster stroke again for this young witch as also on the same date her parents were revealed to have been tortured and killed in their own home. Due to unsuccessful attempts to recover the witch, and no leads of suspects, the Ministry has officially denounced Hermione Granger to be dead as of this year. Mr Shacklebolt, Head of the Aurors Department, expressed that the investigation has only continued this long due to Mr Potter's insistence._

"_She is not dead! She is still out there! We can't give up on her!" The Boy Who Lived claimed in a recent Wizengamot meeting, during which emotions ran high._

_Although Miss Granger was unable to complete her education at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she certainly left the teachers quite the impression, "She had so much potential. She was truly a bright witch." Professor Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House and deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts confessed tearfully to the reporter. _

_Hogwarts will be holding memorial service for this Brightest Witch of her Age tomorrow and al__though Miss Granger was not with us for long, let us take one moment to commemorate this girl and all that she had lost in the span of one day._

Angelique didn't realise that she was crying until the her tears wetted the newspaper. "Oh...Harry." She whispered, her voice was thick with tears but the fondness and love in it was unmistakeable. The newspaper had an accompanied picture of him being escorted out roughly by the Wizengamot guards, and she couldn't help but let her fingers trail lightly over his cheeks.

Gathering her emotions up again, and wrapping her impassivity around her like a cloak, she wiped her tears away hastily and curled her fingers up. But even so, her eyes were still caught on one name...Hermione Granger...

"My Angel!" Her father's voice rang majestically through the halls.

Angelique snatched her hands away from the paper as if burnt. "Burn it." She commanded Libra coldly as she walked out of the room, with all the grace and elegance of an ice queen.

Hermione Granger had died on the 23rd of June.

_She _was Angelique Château – Renaud

* * *

**So...? How did it go...? Hopefully I haven't disappointed all of you if you feel like my writing has DRASTICALLY gone downhill...**

**I know it has been short - I promise to make future chapters longer! But please drop me a review! All of you have been so supportive for my last fic and that has been an amazing experience :D**

**With love,**

**Vanilla Sensation :)**


	2. Broken

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that you can recognise :) **

* * *

**Don't Close Your Eyes**

**Chapter 1: ****Broken**

* * *

Draco Malfoy sneered disdainfully as he watched Goyle flirt artlessly with the new barmaid. The revolting display had already gone on for ten minutes and her disinterest had been blatantly obvious.

_She's not rejecting him only because she's scared he's going to choke her to death._ Draco supposed and he studied the glimmer of fear that flashed across her face with slight amusement. _She should be scared. _He thought vindictively; Gregory Goyle has gained quite the reputation in Hogsmeade these past few years.

"Disgusting."

Draco snapped out of his wandering thoughts and answered the comment with a slight tilt of his lips, "And you only just got here."

Blaise Zabini swung his robes over the chair casually and sat down, "Has he gotten to the, "your voluptuous breasts make me want to erupt with hot lavas of love?" line yet?" He asked with a straight face.

"Merlin…" Draco murmured as the two friends shared a short laugh at Goyle's expense. Their humorous mood was cut short however, when the third person of their party entered the bar.

Theodore Nott slammed the Daily Prophet on their table and fixed a cold glare at the two friends. "Did you do it?" He asked in a feigned controlled tone, anger shimmering precariously underneath its surface.

Draco allowed his eyes to sweep carelessly over the headline and skim over the article. He didn't know why he bothered. It was always the same thing: unidentified suspects, tortured, brutally killed, slaughtered, mysterious deaths, condolences to the relatives…

"By _you, _do you mean us, as in Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabi –"

"Dammit Zabini, you know what I mean." Theo interrupted, he was no longer making an effort to conceal his fury, "The Carringtons were good people. They wanted nothing to do with Voldemort, or Dumbledore."

Both Draco and Blaise flinched subtly at the Dark Lord's name.

"That's it. They chose the wrong side." Draco replied coldly, staring back at Theo with unfathomable eyes.

Theo resisted a shudder as he looked into them. He had always believed that eyes were the windows to a person's soul. But in Draco's eyes…he could only see a bottomless, cold, engulfing abyss, that threatened to consume him in their darkness…He had seen too much, been through too much, done too much…Theo resisted the wave of sympathy that arose within him, knowing it would only infuriate Draco even more. "They weren't on _any _sides." He whispered back, his voice lacking the anger present before.

"That is the wrong side. The only right side is _his._" Draco continued in the same unfeeling tone. "The sooner you realise that, the better. He is running out of patience for you."

Theo's eyes flickered of their own accord to the dark marks displayed thoughtlessly on his friends' arms. He looked at it with thinly veiled distaste and disgust.

"Aw…don't stare at them too much, soon you'll have your own to look at." Blaise's sharp tone was disguised poorly by the witty jibe.

Theo forced his eyes elsewhere and tried to not think about the inevitable. Blaise was right. It was only a matter of time before the same grotesque mark was imprinted on his skin.

Draco watched as despair and anger flitted across Theo's face. _He would have to work on masking his emotions_ he commented to himself silently and made a mental note to prepare him. _The Dark Lord would not tolerate sloppiness. _He thought to himself with a wince, remembering the unfortunate case of Marcus Flint last night. The newly initiated Death Eater was unable to stomach his food after watching the torture of the Carringtons. Needless to say, the Dark Lord was extremely unhappy with the lack of "decorum" and "dignity" that his follower displayed.

Draco's eyes flicked to the boy now sitting opposite him. Theodore Nott had always been somewhat of an enigma during his time at Hogwarts. He was a quiet, soft-spoken boy, with curly, dark brown hair swept casually to the side, and a pair of eyes with a shade of brown that seemed to shine with intensity. All in all, Theodore Nott was not the typical Slytherin. It was exactly that, that made him somewhat protective of the boy. He had always kept an eye out for Theo during his first few years of school; although it wasn't until the third year, when he found him curled up in a ball in his pyjamas, shivering from the cold and crying with a picture of Theodore Nott senior clutched tightly in his hands, that he actually talked to him. Since then, Draco had unanimously taken up the role of a mentor for him. He didn't know what drew him to the boy, perhaps it was his brown eyes that still shined with the same intensity and emotions even after all that he had seen. Perhaps it was the quiet intelligence that he kept so securely hidden for fear attracting attention. Or perhaps, he reminded Draco of himself, a more perfect, wholesome and untainted version of himself.

His thoughts continued to wander as the trio sat in a companionable but troubled silence. He studied the people around him with a casual disinterest. The wizard on the table next to him was swirling and staring at his glass of firewhiskey absentmindedly, as if hoping its amber depths would provide him with some sort of solace. In front of him, on another table by herself, was another witch. She would glance up every several minutes, check the clock, then throw those around her an annoyed glance, before returning to her paperwork. Another couple sat in front of him. They were smiling at each other shyly with an insouciance that Draco found himself envying. They looked so young, sixth year perhaps? Quickly, he averted his eyes. _Hogwarts…_Draco thought idly, that had seemed like a lifetime away. _Hogwarts…_He resisted the urge to say the word out loud, to feel what it was like on his tongue…_Hogwarts…_It had become so foreign.

Against his will, he found his eyes straying back to the couple, who was still clad in their Hogwarts robes. _Definitely sixth year. _Draco concluded as he caught the Prefect badge on the boy's uniform.

Sixth year…that was the year that everything had changed.

Hermione Granger had gone missing and everyone was in an uproar. The Golden Trio became the Broken Duo. Potter used his anger to fuel himself, and was consumed by it. Gone was the boy who stuttered uncomfortably during public speeches, instead, his eyes were filled with passion, he spoke with determination and he motivated people like never before. But still, when people weren't looking, Draco would watch silently as he retreated deep within himself and his eyes fill with loss and confusion. Weasley on the other hand, continued on as if nothing had happened. He smiled, he laughed, he joked and acted as an anchor, firm and steady, for those who needed him. But still, Draco found him, several times, in empty classrooms, sobbing, and biting his hand so hard that droplets of blood would leak out of their confines and mix seamlessly with his tears to create bloody patterns on his arms. During those times, Draco would slip away into the shadows, with almost a sense of respect, for the boy and his grieves and the girl who he mourned.

It was also that year, Draco was assigned with the task of killing Albus Dumbledore and the year he joined the Order of the Phoenix. With a few well-constructed illusions and some misrepresented facts, he was able to lure the Dark Lord himself into the battle of Hogwarts.

It was on that day, 30th of June 1997, when Harry Potter lost to Lord Voldemort.

It was a bittersweet affair. Although Harry Potter had lost, all of Voldemort's horcruxes were destroyed, and that scared the Dark Lord more than anything. He had instantly apparated out of Hogwarts with his Death Eaters following soon after. The Wizarding world hasn't seen him since.

Although nobody could find him, his hold on the Wizarding world had not lessened. The defeat of Harry Potter sent a mighty wave of worry, disheartenment and unadulterated fear.

Draco swept his eyes over the people sitting around him again. The Wizarding world was only a semblance of what it once was. Half of people were content to be languishing in their ignorance, believing ignorance to be bliss. Draco only sneered when he heard of that saying; it was weak and pathetic.

But could he really blame them? After Potter's defeat, it seemed the people's hope had been defeated along with him. They were now reluctant to stand up with him, reluctant to break this semblance of peace they now had.

This age of ignorance and avoidance bought freedom to the Death Eaters. They were now able to flaunt their status openly, without the fear of being rounded up to Azkaban, because what could the Aurors do? In the case of Kingsley Shacklebolt, he spent weeks gathering enough information on Igor Karkaroff to give him a sentence of life imprisonment in Azkaban. The next morning in Azkaban, the guards who were stationed in the whole of Azkaban were found brutally murdered, their blood staining the ancient concrete floors to a dull red. When the new guards arrived to switch posts, a single note was left in the cell:

_Heed this warning for those who dare imprison us_

The entire Wizarding world was shocked into silence. They were now at an impasse, a stalemate, where neither side were willing to take the risk of overthrowing the other. The Order was still trying to regroup after the last devastating battle in Hogwarts, where they lost nearly half their fighters and the hopes of their people. Voldemort was unwilling to engage in battle openly with Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, knowing now that all his Horcruxes were destroyed and his most feared adversary having possession of the fabled Elder Wand.

Glancing around him once more, Draco was reminded of a lake. He knew that its surface, while smooth and calm, was delicate, and its serenity could be easily broken.

He was suddenly startled out of his thoughts by a sharp pain on his arm. He clutched his left forearm in pain and saw Blaise mirror his actions out of the corner of his eye.

"Got to go. He's calling." Blaise explained curtly to Theo.

"I know."

Draco and Blaise stood up and gathered their cloaks. As Blaise paid their cheques, Draco placed a firm hand on Theo's shoulder, "I'll try to hold it off for as long as possible. We only just got a new group of recruits from Bulgaria. He wouldn't need any new ones for some time." He spoke reassuringly and offered him a tight smile.

"Thank you." Theo whispered back, somewhat relieved.

Draco gave a last nod and followed after Blaise who was already waiting for him outside the doors. Finding an empty alleyway and donning their thick Deatheater robes, Draco and Blaise gave each other a grim nod, as per custom, before apparating to the Manor.

After a few nauseating moments and a painful tug at his navel, Draco found himself in the ancient hallways of Riddle Manor. Another loud crack behind him alerted him to Blaise's appearance. The torches on the walls flickered to life after sensing their presence, illuminating their path ahead. The flames created an ironically warm atmosphere for a Manor which was otherwise entrenched in coldness. As they advanced towards the drawing room, Draco squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and willed his eyes to look nowhere but ahead.

The opulence of Riddle Manor had once amazed him. The high arched windows, regal Greek columns, lavish wall hangings and French renaissance furniture, all portrayed a sense of elegance and beauty. Though, he could never quite imagine the Dark Lord seating himself in the chaise lounge and flipping through a book, or eating at the immaculately set Victorian dinner table, or even pacing on the dark oak floorboards. However, he first time he saw that lounge splattered with the blood of Mulciber, the first time he saw Avery writhing on that dinner table, the first time he saw the light leave Rosier's eyes on the floor, and suddenly everything no longer made no sense. Now, as he walked through these magnificently decorated hallways, he no longer saw the opulence that it falsely displayed. Instead, he saw pain, suffering and darkness.

As they neared, Draco carefully constructed his Occlumency shields and schooled his face into one of an impenetrable mask.

"Marchbanks specifically told everyone in our department all to be there." Yaxley's nasal voice sounded unpleasantly, as they pushed open the double doors to the drawing room.

"Draco, Blaise, pleasure as always." Voldemort greeted, while carelessly cutting Yaxley off, in a deceptively calm and pleasant voice.

Draco and Blaise bent into low bows, "My deepest apologies my Lord. Blaise and I were in Diagon Alley when you called and despite our desire to respond as soon as possible we were made victims of our environment." Draco spoke soothingly and confidently, with a hint of reverence.

Silence ensued while Draco steadily held the Dark Lord's gaze. After a few moments, Voldemort nodded his head slightly, accepting his excuse, "I shall be severely disappointed should you be made victims again..."

Draco and Blaise moved to their seats swiftly, ignoring the looks of jealousy that were sent their way at their lack of punishment. "I apologise for interrupting Yaxley." Draco acknowledged and sent the burly Death Eater an apologetic nod.

Yaxley barely accepted the apology before continuing, "As I was saying, the Ministry is planning to celebrate their arrival and Griselda has already ordered all of us to be present."

Voldemort nodded contemplatively, "What of the Department of International Magical Cooperation?"

"The Weasley brat has been jumping up and down since he received the notice from the French Ministry of Magic." Thorfinn Rowle spat, a sneer deforming his already unfortunate face.

Noticing his son's confusion, Lucius Malfoy supplied calmly, "The French Pureblood family of Château – Renaud is coming to England and the Ministry of Magic is preparing for their arrival."

"If I may, what makes them so special?" Blaise asked.

"The Château – Renaud family traces their ancestry back to the time of Merlin. They are one of the most pure and ancient Pureblooded families alive. Their wealth and influence in the French Ministry is also unparalleled. They singlehandedly established the Treaty of Forunatis between the French Ministry and the British, American, Chinese and Russian Ministries of Magic and was one of the five families present during the writing of The International Statute of Legibus Merlinus, the laws which govern Magic." Draco informed him quickly, as though reciting from a textbook.

Draco then frowned thoughtfully, "But I thought that since Raymond Château – Renaud, their family has become rather reluctant to be involved in public interactions. Didn't they even refuse to appear at the coronation of Emile de Villefort?" He asked, naming the current French Minister of Magic.

"You are not incorrect." Rodolphus Lestrange answered, "Alexandre Château – Renaud, the current male head of the Château – Renaud family became a recluse since the death of his wife. He is known for his eccentric nature and wild experimentations. Only recently, his daughter, Angelique Château – Renaud entered society. Despite the short amount of time, she has not only managed to reinstate the family's power in the French Ministry but also multiplied the family's wealth and value. She alone is estimated to have 23,494,970,287 galleons, 16 sickles and 25 knuts worth of dowry and that is not including the Château – Renaud empire."

Draco struggled to keep his shock from being displayed. Blaise however, had no such whelms, "Holy Merlin!"

"Indeed Blaise." Rodolphus commented in an almost amused tone, "This family will be an invaluable asset to our cause."

"What will you have us do, My Lord?" Draco questioned, knowing immediately that Voldemort would wish to have this powerful family under his control.

Voldemort nodded his head appreciatively at him, "What will I have you do? Indeed…I wish for you and Blaise to…put it delicately…charm this Angelique and ensure her and her father's loyalty in our cause. With their power and influence over the French Ministry…my friends…we look in the eye of victory."

Draco and Blaise inclined theirs heads solemnly, "We would not let you down, My Lord." They intoned.

A huge, raucous round of applause and savage laughter followed their agreement. Draco barely managed to hide the glimmer of distaste and disgust at the decorum that these "pureblooded" males displayed.

Blaise nudged him subtly, "Do you think she's ugly?" He asked, with a genuine worried look.

Draco's mouth lifted up to a grin, "That's what you're worried about?"

Blaise shrugged, "Just wondering if I have to stock up on Calming Draughts and Cupid Crystals if I have to sweet talk a troll."

Unfortunately Voldemort suddenly took an interest in their conversation, "Blaise, do you have a problem?" Immediately the entire table calmed down. They all watched with bated breath and a glint in their eyes that portrayed their bloodlust.

"I was merely wondering about the appearance of our highly anticipated female guest." He replied honestly.

Draco resisted the urge to gawk and look at his friend in awe, knowing it would make him look highly undignified. Blaise was the only one that could get away with such cheek at the Dark Lord, and never be punished. However, what Blaise lacked in tact, he made up for in skill, determination and obedience. Draco glanced at his Italian friend again, and he suddenly felt a heavy layer of guilt settle over his heart. Blaise had joined the Death Eaters because of him. They had grew up together and done everything together. When Blaise's mother bought home her latest conquest, it was him who he went to for sanctuary. When his familial expectations became too heavy for him to carry, it was Blaise who shared the burden with him. When he told him he was going to become a Death Eater, Blaise had stared at him indescribably. After a moment of silence, he uttered the words which Draco knew, would irrevocably change his life, "Well, you know I'm going to have to become one with you."

Slytherins were never good with emotions. In fact, they believed that it would be better off without them. Emotions were fickle, were unpredictable, were unreliable. The only time when it became beneficial would be when it could be exploited for gain. But as Draco looked into Blaise's eyes that day he thought that he saw something there; something that was supposed to be fickle, supposed to be unpredictable and supposed to be unreliable.

With a casual flick of his hand, Voldemort gestured to Rowle. "Show them." He commanded.

Rowle reached into his pocket and took out a photograph, "Behold, the exquisite Angelique Château – Renaud."

Draco's eyes widened as he saw the photograph. He was staring at a beautiful girl wearing deep red strapless ball gown. Her silky, luscious, dark brown curls cascaded elegantly down her back and her mesmerising deep blue eyes were framed with long, black eyelashes. She appeared to be laughing and Draco couldn't help but notice the intelligence and mirth shining in her eyes. But it wasn't her features that caught his eye. She reminded him of someone…someone from a long time ago… Draco looked at Blaise, who appeared to be pleasantly surprise by someone who was the exact opposite of what he expected. Snapping out of his daze, Blaise nudged Draco again, "Is it just me, or does she look eerily similar to Hermione Granger?"

Feeling as if someone had finally casted a _Lumos _in his brain, Draco felt comprehension finally dawn on him. _That's why she looked so familiar._ He glanced towards Dolohov, searching his face for some kind of emotion that betrayed his thoughts.

"It better not be that pathetic Mudblood bitch. Although if it is…I can't wait to get my hands on her again…" Dolohov sneered vulgarly while licking his lips in a disturbing fashion.

"Crucio" Voldemort sent the torture curse with a careless point of his wand, "Care not to be so vulgar…my friend?" He asked with a sickening smile, which only increased with the sounds of pain Dolohov emitted. Just when he was about to pass out from the pain, Voldemort released the curse.

Dolohov, who had fallen out of his chair during the torture, picked himself up and twitched nervously as he tried to seat himself again. But before he could even touch the chair, he was blasted back again.

"Who told you to sit? Creatures like you belong on the floor!" Bellatrix said goadingly, her wild hair buzzing with excitement and sadism.

"Now now Bella, let's not be so…_ungenerous…_to the crippled…" Voldemort reprimanded her mockingly. "You may sit…Antonin."

Dolohov, who was standing off to the side, was struggling to not betray any trace of anger at being so blatantly disrespected; especially in front of Draco and Blaise. "I actually prefer standing…My Lord."

"Ooohh…Our little cripple has an attitude!" Bellatrix giggled manically.

Ignoring her, Voldemort commented nonchalantly, "Antonin…you seem to have given me more trouble than you are worth. Not only did you kill one of the most well-known Mudbloods…Potter's best friend…and attracted unwelcomed attention during a…precarious…time," He paused, savouring the fear in his follower's eyes, "and you managed to make yourself worthless to me…" He stated coldly, staring down with disdain at the useless stump of where Dolohov's right hand was supposed to be.

"What shall I do with you…Antonin?" The Dark Lord questioned clandestinely as his pale white fingers traced lightly over his wand.

Dolohov fell immediately onto the floor. He shuffled closer to Voldemort and using his remaining left hand, grasped his robe and placed frantic kisses along the edge, "Please, My Lord, you have to forgive me. The Mudblood needed to be taught a lesson. Please, My Lord, isn't my faithfulness and dedication of the highest service one can provide?" Dolohov begged.

Draco, along with the rest of the table, seemed to hold their breath as they watched Dolohov snivel on the floor. Bellatrix however, let out a loud crackle, "Kill him, kill him My Lord." She encouraged with her omnipresent savagery. "The pathetic creature couldn't even finish off a Mudblood without losing one of his hands in the process!"

Voldemort glanced towards Bellatrix, "Although I find your enthusiasm encouraging Bella…Maybe I can still find uses for the man…" With a calculating glint in his eyes, Voldemort sneered down at his follower in disdain, and in one powerful motion, he kicked him away. Dolohov whimpered from the kick and proceeded to curl up in ball, similar to that of a wounded dog. "Do not…attempt…to soil my robes with your idiocy." Voldemort bit out. "Meeting adjourned."

Draco discreetly let out a breath of relief as the Dark Lord swept out of the room. The rest of the table proceeded to stand up and apparate out of the Manor. Draco and Blaise sent each other another nod and a slap on the back, nonverbally congratulating each other on surviving another night.

* * *

It was barely an hour after the Death Eater meetings when his Malfoy signet ring started to burn, alerting him to attend the Order meeting. Now, as Draco nursed a cup of firewhiskey and leaned back onto the couch, he felt his head pounding. The Order members were arguing, as usual, about matters which were too inconsequential for him to care about.

"Sanguini has promised me his tribe's allegiance to our cause!" Dedalus Diggle argued.

"I'm telling you Diggle, we cannot trust the Vampire. I would bet my good eyeball that the Dark Lord has already recruited him. Inducting them into the Order would be no different than inviting a group of Death Eaters straight into our midst!" Moody countered back angrily, his hand hitting the table periodically to emphasise his point.

"Moody, stop being so bloody paranoid! Bludd has also promised us their allegiance. Just because they are Dark creatures, it doesn't mean that they will automatically side with Voldemort!" Sturgis Podmore joined in, defending his friend.

"Would you both stop being so pig-headed?" Moody yelled, and bought his crane down, hitting both of them over the head.

"What is your problem, old man!" Podmore and Diggle jumped out of their seats and pulled out their wand. However before they could even get it fully out of their holsters, they were blasted away and their wands landed gracefully into the outstretched arms of Dumbledore.

Dumbledore strode into the room calmly, "Now, let us not deprive this lovely evening of pleasant conversation. Please, gentlemen, sit down." Although his words were genial, it contained an underlying force and the three men sat down reluctantly.

"So, Headmaster, why are we here?" Fred Weasley asked from the kitchen.

"If it's nothing important, we have a game of Exploding Snap and some mind-blowingly awesome inventions to invent upstairs." George continued.

Dumbledore gave them a crooked smile, "Mr Weasley I promise that you will be interested."

"Fred, George, come sit down here this instant." Molly Weasley reprimanded sternly, pointing at the chairs beside her.

Draco, who had his eyes closed until this point, sat up and did a cursory glance around the room. Making himself comfortable once more, he drawled, "Make this quick."

Dumbledore looked towards Percy and nodded, indicating for him to begin. Draco watched with thinly veiled distaste as the Weasley straightened himself up pompously, "I, being the Head of the Department of Magical Cooperation, was notified of the arrival of the Château – Renaud Family in England. The Ministry has decided to host a celebratory Welcoming Ball in their honour. All Ministry employees are required to be there."

"Great, so a snobbish Pureblood Family is coming. What's the big deal?" Fred asked, voicing everybody's thoughts.

Draco resisted the urge to groan and ruffled his hair frustratingly. _Did anybody _ever _read about Wizarding history? _He thought to himself, casting an annoyed glance around the room. Granted, nobody has heard of the family for years, decades even, the Château – Renaud Family's mark in Wizarding history has been unforgettable. _Why did they suddenly decide to re-enter in society? _Draco wondered. With their amassed fortune, it could easily sustain the family for several more decades…so it wasn't about the money. Neither could it be for power, Draco concluded. _Surely if they managed to survive for several decades without controlling the Ministry, they would have no need to begin now…_His fingers flicked the edges of the photograph of Angelique in his pocket absentmindedly. The more he looked at her, the more she became an enigma. As he glanced cursorily around the room again, and heard the loud cries of amazement at the Château – Renaud family's achievements, he knew, somehow, that this all had to do the girl and the intelligence and deviousness that he saw shining subtly in her eyes.

_So many questions…and no answers…_Draco thought frustratingly. His inner tantrum was interrupted however, by Lupin, "Draco, do you have anything more to tell us?"

"No, everything's been said. The Dark Lord has ordered me and Blaise to pay special attention to the girl." Draco replied tonelessly.

His words were met with snickers, "Pay special attention…more like seduce…" Fred whispered to George, making little effort to keep their conversation private.

"I think you've hit the nail on the head Freddie." George whispered back teasingly.

Draco rolled his eyes at their antics, knowing better now to not give them any more ammunition; meaning his rebuttals and anger.

"What does she look like?"

Everyone seated around the table nearly jolted in surprise at Harry's question. He rarely spoke at meetings and it was rarer still that it was about something of a frivolous nature.

Percy Weasley, only too happy to be of use, took out a photograph from his pocket with a flourish. Draco noted that it was the same photo that he had currently residing in the pocket. He waited, with slight amusement, for Potter to notice her similarity with a former best friend. He wasn't disappointed.

"Hermione!" The Boy Who Lived practically lunged out of his seat for the photograph.

He wasn't the only one who had noticed. Weaslette had snatched the photograph straight out of Potter's hands and was now staring at it in amazement, "Hermione…" the name came out as a loving whisper and she stroked the photograph with concern shining in her eyes.

Ron, who was looking over the shoulder of his sister, had the expression of one who was just confronted by a Boggart, "Blimey! That's her!"

Before anyone else could get excited, Draco lifted himself off the couch and walked towards the table, "It is of _no _possibility that Angelique Château – Renaud is the missing Hermione Granger." He stated coldly, meeting the annoyed glares with an impassionate stare.

Snape studied the photograph longer and nodded to himself, "Draco is correct. First of all, Miss Angelique's eyes are a midnight blue, as it had been for all descendants of the Château – Renaud family." He paused and held a hand up, cutting off the objections that Harry had on his tongue, "It is possible that Miss Granger used a glamour, but that is highly unlikely. Those of you…knowledgeable…enough…" Snape drawled, enjoying the looks of indignation on people's faces, "understand that glamours are of an extremely volatile nature and the length of which it can be sustained relates directly to the witch or wizard's magical capacity. While I have no doubt Miss Granger would be able to sustain the magic for hours, she will not be able to sustain it for three, four years. The moment the glamour wears off and people see her eyes return to their original shade, I am positive it would make the headlines of all newspapers before the end of the day. Another possibility is that she has invented a potion to permanently change her eye colour. Unfortunately, the chance of that is slimmer than the first proposition. People's eye colours are genetic and hereditary; no amount of magical concoctions should be able to change that of a witch or wizard's nature. However, what is most important is that all wizarding cameras, especially Ministry quality ones, reveal the person's true nature, meaning the person would be stripped bare of enchantments and all other magical enhancements. Since this photograph is taken by the French Ministry, it is impossible that Miss Granger would be able to confound such a powerful magical object."

"That cannot be true." Ginny argued, "Many witches take Beautifying potions every morning, especially those who pose regularly for Witch Weekly, and those effects are not undone by our wizarding cameras."

Draco rolled his eyes at her ignorance, catching a smile before it appeared on his lips as he hypothesised about how his Godfather would ridicule her. Again, he thought correct.

"Miss Weasley, perhaps you should consider lifting your abnormally empty head out of those beauty magazines for a second before you ask dim-witted and ignorant questions like these." Snape sneered at her lack of knowledge, "All wizarding cameras have the ability to disarm all magical effects on the person, however often the truth is too unpalatable for people to bear." He paused and muttered an incantation under his breath, and the photo emitted blue glow, it pulsed for three seconds before fading away, "Blue, the colour of truth." Snape stated in a monotone. This had finally, and effectively, ended everyone's irrational hopes of Angelique Château – Renaud being Hermione Granger.

Draco sneaked a look back at Potter and Weasley. Upon realising their hope being destroyed, they had quickly resumed their former facades; Potter's being aloof, and Weasley's being mind-numbingly jovial.

"Draco, will you be in attendance the Welcoming Ball of the Château – Renaud family?" Dumbledore asked, after a moment of silence that allowed people to gather their thoughts.

He nodded, "Father thought it would be best for me to start early…"

"And will I be correct to assume you will ensure that Miss Château – Renaud's attention will be centered upon the appropriate cause?" Dumbledore asked again, his familiar blue eyes had taken on a dangerous quality.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his former Headmaster. Anger and resentment radiated out of him in great waves and only with great restraint was he able to rein in his magic, avoiding it from lashing out at people in the room. The leader of the Order of the Phoenix, the _de facto _figurehead of the rebellion, the person who represented hope and goodness to millions of witches and wizards, had not only questioned his loyalty but also backed him into a corner at which he had no choice but to accept the underhanded way that he was delivered this mission. He knew, that should the Château – Renaud family support the Order, it would be near impossible for him and Blaise to escape with their lives, even with the "promised" protection of the Order. In that moment, Draco hated the man. He hated how he sat upon that chair with a sense of righteousness, justice…_goodness_…when he played him, everyone, like defenceless spawns, exactly like Voldemort.

Finally calming himself, he answered curtly, "I understand."

Draco resisted a shudder as he realised the situation: The rock had been cast…the lake of the Wizarding world was about to be plunged into chaos…

* * *

_Hermione eyed the luxurious furnishings around her curiously and ran her hands over her impossibly soft bed covers, hoping for possibly the millionth time that she could glean information about its owners. It had been weeks since she arrived at this…palace and never once had she seen another human being. Her meals were bought to her by house elves, who, once questioned by her, would start bashing their knobby fists against their heads. She was confined to the room. Although it was decorated with undeniable class and elegance, she felt herself longing for her own mismatched bedroom; the one that had dark oak bedside tables with a whitewashed headboard, the one that had the hairbrush that her mother would comb her hair with, the one that had the bookcase that her father and her filled together, the one that had paint streaked across the door due to a painting mishap, the one that had…that had her memories…_

_She shut her eyes in pain. _

_Despite her efforts to delude herself to think otherwise, she knew her parents had died. She had been surprisingly calm when she concluded that. _Perhaps my tears reservoir has already been depleted _She thought wryly, thinking back to the day when she rushed through the streets of London, stupidly, idiotically, irrationally, like a madwoman. Surprisingly, she hasn't shed a single tear since she found herself awake. Her numbness and lack of tears at her parents' death only bought upon fresh waves of self-loathing and guilt. What sort of a daughter was she if she couldn't even shed a tear at her parents' deaths? _

_The thought had bought Hermione to a panic. No…she needed to feel something…she _was _sad…she _did _care about them…she _does _miss them…_

Then why can't you cry? _A voice taunted her relentlessly. _

"_I loved them!" She yelled, releasing all of her frustration into the ceiling. _

Then cry…

"_Why can't I cry…why can't I cry…No…I can cry…" Hermione whispered over and over again, her eyes taking on a crazed glint. Suddenly, she felt fists punching her in her stomach, knocking the air out of her. Her eyes watered, and she felt someone raking their nails excruciatingly and slowly down her arms. Then there were slaps, loud…painful ones which resounded in the empty room and left her cheek burning. The person kept doing it…she tasted blood in her mouth…_

_Everything was so painful…yet it was also so invigorating. The pain made her feel alive…_

_Finally, her tear ducts seemed to respond to the physical pain and they came cascading out of her eyes like a rampaging waterfall. _

"_Mum! Dad!" She yelled until her throat went raw…until she felt like someone had raked knives through them…_

_The next day when she woke up, she found all of her injuries healed and it infuriated her beyond belief, because the injuries reminded her of being alive, reminded her that she could still feel…_

"_Show yourself! Show yourself to me this instant! I will not play your twisted games any longer. I will not stay here like a trained canary. I will not remain here to provide you with sick, sadistic entertainment!" Her words were met with silence. _

_Spotting the ceramic vase on her bedside table, she rushed over and smashed it to pieces. She then picked up a shatter piece and held it to her wrist, "Show yourself to me this instant or I will make sure you will never have the opportunity to…" _

_Hermione waited, her eyes were taking on a crazed quality as she trained them on the door. It slowly creaked open. That was the first time she saw Alexandre Château – Renaud._

Angelique chewed the last piece of her crumpet delicately and slowly, smiling as she waited for her father to finish his usual black coffee. She arranged her skirt elegantly, crossed her ankles and placed her hands on her lap.

"Nous partons demain, oui?" She asked, with hopefulness in her tone.

"Oui, Mon Ange." Alexandre Château – Renaud replied, smiling indulgently at his daughter. "Tomorrow we return to England."

Angelique felt the corners of her lips lift up into a smirk as the clichéd phrase rolled off her tongue sensually: "Let the games begin…"

* * *

A/N Ok, I'm REALLY sorry about the late upload...it was SO hard just getting off my butt and actually writing it...:P

But hopefully, the length of the chapter is worth the wait!

So please leave me a review. Even if you are just reading this story because you're bored, and don't really have high expectations for it, (believe me, I know how that feels... :P) leave your thoughts with me, tell me what you want to see, what you think you will read ;)

**Oh! Something sort of important I forgot to mention...this fanfic is also based on a classic novel ...I was going to reveal it in my first chapter but since I've forgotten, I'll make this into some sort of a game :D Can anyone pick out which novel the plot is based on? **

I think it's pretty obvious, people probably realised it from the first chapter...but oh well...give me your best guess :P

**Finally, THANKYOU TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEWED AND ALERTED! That motivates me like you can't imagine ;) **

**Until later,**

**Vanilla Sensation :) **


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